The Job
by Fae of the Night
Summary: PG-13 for mature content. Chapter 3 up. Sarah obtains a rather strange job. This is the first fanfic i've tried to write in a long time. Please RR. Thanks!
1. A Calling

~*~TEASER~*~  
  
~A.N. This is the first Laby fanfic I've tried to write in a long time. Granted, I'm not very good at it, but here's the teaser. If I know people are interested, I'll continue. Please read and review. It's not long at all.~  
  
It was merely another routine day for Sarah Williams. It had been almost identical to the day before, and surely the day after wouldn't be much different. She woke up, showered, ate, did all that sort of normal human routine, then got dressed and left her run-down New York apartment and began to walk to yet another subway station. Well, I'm not going to bore you with the long details of the subway ride, but eventually, she ended up somewhere. In fact, it's really not that important that you know the name of the city. It is only important that you realize she ended up at the front of an East Coast Publishing house. Usually, the girl wasn't frightened or timid-looking, but that is exactly what she was at the moment. You see, Sarah had been submitting works of hers to publishing houses for over two years with no luck in finding a job. Over the past few interviews, she had been quite nervous. She believed that she would never be able to get a job as a writer, and that's all she had really wanted anyway. There'd be no point in keeping all her fantasies to herself; the world had to know.  
  
With trembling hands holding her purse to her side, Sarah made her way into the building. She inquired the information booth where her scheduled appointment would be, and the man there kindly directed her towards the elevator, giving her the appropriate directions. The heels of her black boots clicked against the marble floor as she walked towards the elevator. Once inside the elevator, Sarah started to panic once more, beginning to tremble again. She was surrounded by a bunch of corporate looking people. No one looked like the typical writer at all. Maybe they were just office workers, but she suddenly felt terribly underdressed in her navy blue tank top lined with lace, her satin and lacy white skirt, and black leather boots. Her long brown hair simply down looked almost silly in comparison to the tight buns and French twists of most of them other women in the elevator. Feeling blush rising to her cheeks, she let her hazel eyes gaze down at the floor instead of meeting eyes with the other people in the claustrophobic area. A loud ding! sounded the area, and Sarah reacted to it by pushing through the people to get out of the elevator. Once the doors of it closed, she took a huge intake of air and let it fill her lungs, then depart, then do it all over again.  
  
There was a receptionist at the front, and Sarah thought it was the appropriate thing to do to go over to her and ask about her scheduled meeting. The receptionist nodded once Sarah gave the woman her information. "Ooh. You're lucky. Ms. Water likes punctuality," the receptionist said with a crooked smile and a heavy New York accent. "Just wait over there." A bent finger with a long false red nail pointed to a chair by a door, and Sarah promptly went over to it and sat down. Sarah thought that she would have time to twiddle her thumbs, but apparently she didn't because the door opened and a smiling woman came out to meet her, outstretching her hand. "You're here on time," the woman stated. Sarah looked her over. She looked rather kind, young, and energetic. Slowly, Sarah's fears started to melt away with the comforting aura of Ms. Waters. She stood and shook her hand lightly, smiling.  
  
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Waters."  
  
"Oh, please. Call me Dina! Now, Ms. Williams, let me show you to my office."  
  
Sarah followed the woman into the office. Ms. Waters shut the door lightly before gesturing to Sarah to sit down in the chair across from, what seemed, a very expensive looking desk. Sarah's eyes drifted from the desk to the woman herself, meeting her gaze.  
  
"Now, Sarah. Your work is very good. The concepts are original.completely. I mean, it's amazing you pulled this out of your head. You're like.like.a modern Tolkien!"  
  
Sarah stared at the woman with her mouth slightly opened. "Thank you, Ms. Water!"  
  
"Now, the only thing is," the woman continued, "is that we've recently published a lot of fantasy books and we really can't handle any more. Had you come sooner, however,"  
  
Sarah nodded, her gaze falling as well as her chin.  
  
"But I do have a job for you, if you'll take it, that is."  
  
Sarah's eyes lit up again, looking to the woman. "Of course I'll take it!" she exclaimed.  
  
"Oh, good. Now, it may not be exactly what you want, but the man who is in charge of it is very interested in your work." The woman stopped, to watch Sarah's expression, then continued. "He's an artist, a very good friend of mine. You see, it is not that he lacks creativity, but he always starves for new ideas. And you are just the person for that. He wants to create art based on your work. He wants to work with you to get them published. In fact, he wants to help you turn it into a screenplay."  
  
Sarah tilted her head at the woman, an odd, confused expression on her face. She then nodded. "Alright.well, that sounds like it could be fun."  
  
The woman nodded and stood, handing Sarah a card. "Yes. Now, you must call him tonight and he will tell you all the details. He's paying very high, so you need not worry about that." The woman smiled and Sarah stood. She thanked her, left the building and went home on the subway.  
  
She walked into her apartment at about 5:00. Her roommate still wasn't home yet. Sarah locked the door and went over to the couch and lied down, bringing the card up to her face to read the name. In gold letters and a rather fancy font it read.  
  
Devon Ogier Creative Mind (323) 867-5309  
  
Sarah furrowed her brows. .323.That was a Los Angeles area code. Los Angeles? Ah, she would have to move? She grunted a bit and looked over to the phone. "Well, it is already tonight," she said out loud. Not being able to bear the anticipation any longer, she moved quickly from the couch and grabbed the phone, dialing the number slowly, making sure she got the numbers right. It rang once, then twice, then thrice, then.she heard someone pick up the receiver. The voice sounded cold, lined with a thick British accent, something that sounded much too familiar. "Hello?" the voice asked. Sarah froze. No, it couldn't be. It was just her mind playing tricks on her.  
  
"Uh.." she said into the phone.  
  
The voice on the other end started to laugh, that same cold laugh she had heard mocking her when she was only 15. "Hello, Sarah."  
  
~*~ again, please, if you read this, reviews are very very very very very very very much appreciated. Thanks for reading! It means a lot.~*~ 


	2. The Arrival

Chapter 2: The Arrival  
  
Before Sarah really had time to think about all of this, she was already boarding a plane to Los Angeles. She had only one small suitcase with her. It contained a reasonable amount of clothing, cds, her hygiene essentials..and all things of the like. It didn't seem to hit her when the pilot announced that they would be landing at LAX shortly. But when the pilot announced that everyone should put their seatbelts on, Sarah's stomach started to turn. It had finally hit her. She could no longer pretend her past was a simple fairy story. It was real.  
  
She waited and waited and waited and waited and waited and waited and waited. . . and waite. . and wait. . . and wai. . . and wa. . . and w. . . and fell asleep on a chair close to where the driver was supposed to pick her up. The room was relatively empty for LAX. There were maybe 20 or 30 people there, at the most. The girl slept peacefully in the uncomfortable looking chair. In fact, that had been one of the most dreamless, wonderful naps she had taken in a very long time. It was a pity that it had been cut so short by a simple shake by a hand on her shoulder.  
  
"Sarah Williams?" a deep voice questioned.  
  
Sarah snorted a bit, taking a big breath and letting her eyes flutter open to gaze at the large, burly, broad-shouldered man that stood before her. He looked like the driver. He was most definitely clad like one.  
  
"Are you Sarah Williams?"  
  
Sarah stared back at him in amazement. How did this man know who she was. She sat up straight and spoke. "Uhm.well, yes. How did you know that?"  
  
The man smiled rather proudly, pointing to her luggage. "It says it right there on your luggage. You're lucky that didn't get stolen while you were sleeping. Alright then, follow me." And with that, the man began to walk out of the room to where a car was waiting in the front. No, it wasn't a limo, and that made Sarah rather happy. Still it was a very expensive new Audi, of the type, she didn't know. Sarah wasn't ever really that into cars.  
  
The large man proceeded in taking her bags and putting them in the trunk, quite delicately for a man of his size, in fact. He then held out an i.d. for her to check over. It told the man's name as Simon Catch, age 32. . . blah blah. Then, he pulled out another paper and handed it over. This one stated that he was the driver of a Devon Jet. There were details, and there were signatures on the bottom. The man on the phone had told her about the page. She nodded and got into the car as he opened the back door. Staying rather quiet, she put her belt on. Her stomach had never felt like this before. She almost felt like she swallowed poison and it was only now that it began to mix in her stomach. She was going to see him again. She had a job, it was a strange one, yes. But she was employed by the infamous Goblin King. What did he really want from her? Her writing abilities alone couldn't have drawn him to seek her out and find her, could they?  
  
While Sarah had been contemplating all these thoughts, along with ones of hunger and exhaustion, they made their way to Mr. Jet's house. She had been to Los Angeles once, when she was a kid, but she had never gone through the rich neighborhoods of the Hollywood Hills. They kept going higher and higher into the hills, her stomach turning more, the houses getting bigger, and the noises of the decadent city below slowly fading. It was peaceful up there. She felt . . . safe. Sarah's gaze lowered as they pulled through a driveway. "Calm down, Sarah." She said to herself. The driver didn't seem to notice.  
  
As Sarah's green eyes gazed up at the large home, she almost squealed. It was green and gray with two stories and a huge front lawn. Some of the front and sides of the house were covered in ivy. It looked like a very large cottage. It just gave off that cottage feeling. While the girl was gawking at the home, the chauffeur was already getting her things out of the trunk. Realizing that she was staring with eyes wide and an opened mouth, she unbuckled herself and got out of the car, slamming the door and hurrying up the front steps, where the driver already was. She stood there, hearing the doorbell resound through the inside of the house. Her hands clasped together in front of her. She began to sway back and forth, growing increasingly nervous. There was a clicking of heels, perhaps boots, across the floor. Slowly, but with a certain determination, the steps stopped at the door. The handle clicked, the door opened. He was there.  
  
~*~*~A/N: Yes, I know this is rather short.but the next section may be too long to go with this one. I'm sorry for the shortness, but I just didn't want this to be super long.~*~*~ 


	3. Pain in Confusion, Poetry, and Decadence

~*~AN: okay. I lied. This isn't super long. I guess I was just having a little trouble with this chapter. Well, I know it's short. But.hey, it's fanfiction, not a novel. Anyway, thanks so much for all the comments. It really means a lot to me. Keep 'em coming!~*~  
  
Chapter 3: Pain in Confusion, Poetry, and Decadence  
  
Spinning  
  
Perfect Precision  
  
Caught  
  
In his Gaze  
  
Or Grasp  
  
His mismatched Eyes  
  
Were ferocious  
  
Seemingly kind  
  
Yet vindictive  
  
The Gaze  
  
Would Last  
  
The young girl's eyes were soaked with tears. They streamed down her face and clouded her vision, causing an illusion of the scene like a Monet painting. Sarah had always liked Monet. She continued to cry. Her body shook uncontrollably. How? How? How? He was so intimidating. She no longer had the power she carried with her when she was youthful and full of foolish dreams. She no longer had a baby brother to fight for. There was no fantasy land. There was no Underground. There was no song and dance. There was no Labyrinth. There were no tricks. There were no goblins. There was no magic. There was no Hoggle to save her. There was no line she could've repeated to defeat this madness. There was no dream. Things were what they seemed. There were no illusions here.  
  
Her body felt weak, and before she knew it, it was in the arms of a Devon Jet, or a Jareth, or a villain, or a King, or a hero, or a con artist, or her mother, or her father, or Toby, or a terrorist, or the President, or an Iraqi suicide bomber, or a drag queen, or a heroine addict, or a prostitute, or a bank owner, or a teacher, or a prisoner, or a thief, or an actor, or a model, the world. The world. She was in his arms. Everything that she ever carried about was holding her close to it's chest. Her brain jumbled.she could hear her own thoughts scrambling around, but she could make no sense of them. It seemed to be utter confusion. Contact.  
  
Contact.  
  
Contact.  
  
CONTACT!  
  
She screamed and used all her might to pull away from him, fighting blindly . . . her sight temporarily taken away from her as she was in panic. The tempo slowed, and she gave up her fight. He had her in his gaze again.  
  
His seduction.  
  
NO! It was not seduction. He . . . cared for more than just lust, perhaps? Was it something other? The tempo continued to slow; the music became enchanting and less frantic. The mood changed. Her eyes were locked to his, her lips were parted in awe . . . he felt a hand to her forehead. She was sweating.  
  
A fever. There were whispers. A fever.  
  
There must've been a fever upon her. He nodded. She couldn't see him.  
  
His lips.  
  
His lips were moving closer to her. They touched her skin.  
  
CONTACT!  
  
Warm.  
  
They pressed against her cheek. She had thought they would be too cold. She had been wrong. They were so warm. They were so warm.  
  
~*~please keep reviewing, you guys. Thanks!~*~ 


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